Barry Longyear - Enemy Papers

I no longer question this love between this young woman and this old man. I am learning to see beyond surfaces; a skill Will and Kita knew back on Friendship. As I listened to them, I ached for Falna’s touch. At that moment I could have forgiven it anything, just to have its arms around me.

The platform lands and I force myself into the present moment. Reaper shuts down the controls, releases his straps, and steps down onto the grassy surface of the clearing. The three of us follow, instinctively placing distance between each of us so that we cannot all be taken out with one shot.

We stop five paces from the three Octoberists. Now that we are closer, I see that one of his bodyguards is the head of Black October’s thought police, the woman Akilah Hareef. The third one I do not recognize. Ruche fixes Davidge with a stare and says, "The agreement was that we are to be unarmed. The three of us are unarmed, and the three of you are unarmed." The Octoberist I do not recognize holds up a hand scanner. "That one," Ruche says nodding toward Reaper, "is armed."

Kita smiles and says, "He balances out those hundred and forty-two armed soldiers you have watching us from the edge of the woods." As I listen, I remember the knife in my boot. I guess Ruche doesn’t consider my blade a weapon next to the pistols and disrupters Reaper has tucked here and there.

Ruche’s expression does not change. He nods at the bodies of Ali Enayat and Sally Redfeather. "As we agreed, here are your assassins."

Without looking away from Ruche, Davidge says, "Reaper."

Reaper moves until he is between the litters. He kneels down next to one and uncovers the face of the Alley Cat, the first to volunteer. It is stained with dried blood, the hair matted with it. The eyes are open and Reaper closes them. Turning to face the other litter he pulls the wrapping from the face of the corpse. It is Sally Redfeather, eyes closed, her face waxy yellow, her mouth hanging open. Reaper covers her face, stands, and looks at Paul Ruche, "She was no assassin, squid. She saved all of your lives."

"She killed Raymond," says Akilah Hareef.

"Raymond Sica was an asshole who gave an order that, had it been followed, would have done for Black October what firing those missiles did for the Tean Sindie."

"They were killing us; killing our people!"

"And now they are dead." Reaper squats down, picks Sally’s body up in his arms, and takes her back to the platform.

"What is this meeting about?" asks Davidge.

The head of Black October frowns as he seems to have difficulty arriving at a decision. The decision postponed, he continues to watch as Reaper stands from placing Sally’s body on the platform and returns for Ali Enayat. As he picks up the remains of our first volunteer, Ruche looks into Davidge’s eyes. "I needed to see you face to face. I don’t trust these broadcast images."

"You’re being televised right now," says Kita.

Akilah holds up Sally’s hand-portable, her own image on the tiny screen. "We know."

"There are no screens between you and me right now," Ruche says to Davidge. "I want to see you—your face, your eyes―when you tell me what you are doing here, on Amadeen, in this fight that has nothing to do with you."

I nod as I realize that Black October gets prohibited communications from the quarantine force orbiters. How many other groups do the same, I wonder.

"Tell me now," Roche orders. "Why are you here? What do you get out of this?"

"We are here to police the truce," Davidge repeats. "What we get out of it is the chance for the truce to work. Possibly we get peace."

I can see all of Paul Ruche’s thinking displayed on his face: Do you think I am a fool? I have seen a hundred thousand instances where Dracs have lied, betrayed, set up good men and women, and tortured and killed them. You are standing there with a Drac as your equal, your so-called police force even has a Drac name, and you had Raymond Sica murdered because he was only trying to defend us against the Tean Sindie’s bloody attack.

Reaper places his burden down on the platform next to Sally. Ruche studies him for a moment, then faces Davidge. "So, little Niagat," says Ruche, "you’re after Aydan’s blade, are you?"

In surprise I blurt out, "You know The Talman?"

"To defeat an enemy, one must know its thoughts," he answers without looking away from Davidge. "I know the story of Aydan and its search for peace." He drops his gaze for a moment, and thinks. Once he finds his Mind, he looks first at Kita, then me, then Davidge. "Aydan put together an army to end the war between the nations on Sindie; an army whose only purpose was peace."

He holds out an arm toward the woods. "I’ll tell you what those men and women want. They want every last Drac in the universe dead. I’ll tell you what those Dracs in the Mavedah, Tean Sindie, Sitarmeda, and Thuyo Koradar want. They want every last human in the universe dead. And you want a truce. Tell me, Aydan, what can be gained from truce talks?"

Davidge smiles and shakes his head. "Perhaps what the Dracs say is true: to get a human’s attention takes a mirror, a loud voice, and a sharp stick." He takes a deep breath and nods. "I guess it’s not as obvious as I thought. The point of the truce, Paul Ruche, is the truce itself."

"What does that mean?"

"If the Front and the Mavedah, and all of the human and Drac splinter groups do make it to the table, they will talk, and swear, and bellow, and curse, and threaten, and will reach no agreement, but the truce will hold. Then, in time, children will grow and your replacements will come to the table. Perhaps they too will talk, swear, bellow, curse, and threaten and reach no agreement, but the noise level will be lower and the truce will hold. All this time humans and Dracs will be venturing farther and farther from their weapons. They will be rebuilding their lives, their towns and cities, their schools, farms, and businesses. The young, not burdened with memories, will see where money might be made by selling to the other side. Money might be saved by employing them, putting them through the same schools that ours attend, and the truce will hold. Eventually, the ones who show up at the talks will be men, women, and Dracs who really don’t understand why so many old ones are so insanely attached to the past. The talks will be populated by those who no longer want to waste time on talks that don’t do anything or go anywhere. They will sign the peace."

"For me, then," says Ruche, "it is a pointless gesture. I get nothing I want. Black October gets nothing it has fought and sacrificed for all these years."

"You asked me what would be gained from truce talks. I answered."

"And this is all you want: the truce to hold so that at some point in the future there will be a signed peace?"

Paul Ruche turns away, looks at Akilah Hareef, and she nods in return. "Willis Davidge," she says, "the only Drac I ever heard about who wanted only peace was Aydan, who, if the story is to be believed, killed millions of its enemies before it adopted its noble goal."

"Say what you will," remarks Ruche’s bodyguard with the scanner, "we and the Dracs have at least accomplished that."

After dosing him with a withering glance, Akilah Hareef looks back at Davidge. "In the story of Aydan, Niagat is told how to pass the test for a warmaster’s blade."

Davidge quotes, Return when your goal is peace alone and you hold a willing knife at your own throat to achieve it. That is the price of a warmaster’s blade.

As I hear Akilah Hareef make her offer, the talma is clear to me from beginning to end. I am stunned by it: its simplicity, its beauty, its horror. "We will put down our weapons and come to the talks if we see the Navi Di earn its Aydan’s blade."